


Between a Crucifix and the Hollywood Sign

by InkStainsOnMyHands



Category: Buzzfeed - Fandom, Buzzfeed Unsolved
Genre: M/M, prompt fills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-04 19:10:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 17,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11561511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkStainsOnMyHands/pseuds/InkStainsOnMyHands
Summary: Prompt Fills.





	1. Single People Get Married For A Week • Shane & Ryan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (not sure how good of a fic idea this is but it's all I can think of right now haha) Ryan and Shane doing one of those 'People get Married for a Week/Handcuffed For a Day' videos that Buzzfeed used to do? Maybe something like that could be interesting for a ficlet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness, this would be such a cute idea for a full fic. Here’s, like, what I would expect the ending of it to be like.

It was just supposed to be a video. Nothing life-changing, dramatic or jarring; just another installment in a series way passed its prime. 

Yet, nothing could ever be so simple for Ryan. Being married to Shane for a week was eye-opening. Never having considered his attraction to Shane anything more than his repressed sexuality poking through, the experiment came with an internal shock that maybe, just maybe, he might have a crush on his (significantly) taller friend. It would be have been potentially heart-breaking if not for their after-filming interview, in which Shane praised their compatibility and asked Ryan out on an actual date. 

“How’s about it?” the video producer asked Ryan. “Would you go out with Shane?” 

Ryan blushed, hid his head in his hands, and nodded vigorously. The response was met with cheers from the rest of the participants in the room.


	2. Mercy Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ok listen..,, please write something where Shane is in a vulnerable position possibly relating to that whole lowkey sad part in voodoo where he was saying how he wishes he could believe in something?? ;00 and make it sort of angsty and a lil fluffy?? i've been thinking about this for so long but i have no writing ability haha,, i just want shane to be comforted by his bf ok

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, maybe what I wrote is something far different than what you were requesting, but this idea was stuck in my head for a minute, and it wouldn't leave me alone. Anyway, I hope you still enjoy this.

The icons for the video and audio files on Ryan’s desktop seemingly mocked him for his cowardice as they remained untouched before him. He breathed deeply through his nose, and the air escaped his lungs in a long, drawn out sigh. Blinking back the sheen of wetness that had settled over his eyes, he began to work, unable to put it off any longer. 

The preview window of his editing software was almost too bright against the darkness of his living room. It showcased both Shane and Ryan standing at a crossroads in the light of a clear sunny day. Ryan lined the audio with the video at the proper markers and, despite how his chest clenched, clicked play. 

As he watched the video, he felt his stomach drop and his heart lurch. How had he not noticed the intense tremor in Shane’s hand? The way his eyes refused to focus on one thing for too long? How tight the lines of his lips were? Worst yet, the cylindrical object hiding in the pocket of his trousers? (He had known about the goddamn Diazepam in their shared medicine cabinet for fuck’s sake!)

“So, we’re here at the sight of the Juniper Intermediate School bus tragedy, where more than twenty children died due to an intentional crash caused by the suicidal driver,” Ryan had said before turning to Shane. “How much do you know about the case?”

Shane would not answer for several moments. His head was cocked to the side, as though he were listening to someone or something far away. Just as Ryan opened his mouth to speak again, Shane turned to him. Ryan would never forget the way his boyfriend’s thousand-yard-stare penetrated him like a sharp knife. “I know there were only three survivors.” 

“Yeah -” 

“Wanna know their names?” Shane had asked with a cruel smile. 

Ryan watched himself physically reel as his eyebrows furrowed. “How - ?” 

“Pamela Guzman, she had to have her eye removed after a piece of glass impaled her face,” Shane started with a soft laugh. “She would play with the fake eyeball in class, sometimes, to freak kids out, it was great! She killed herself in high school, though.” 

“Whoa, Shane -” Ryan heard someone say off camera. 

Shane wouldn’t stop, even as Ryan quaked beside him and the rest of the crew murmured amongst themselves. “Then there was Donnie Sanders. Last I heard of him, he was stuck in a mental hospital after attacking his girlfriend while hallucinating. ” 

From behind the camera, another voice called out to the rest of the team, “Hey, I think we need to stop this video.” 

“Wait, wait, no it get’s better,” Shane had said while waving his hands wildly at the camera. “The last survivor was named Shane Madej. He had to switch schools after the sleep paralysis got really bad.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ryan had asked so quietly the question was almost drowned out by the Santa Ana winds. 

The video then cut to black, though the audio continued. 

“I thought - I thought I could -” he heard Shane dissolve into a fit of sobbing. “I’m sorry Ryan, I thought I could do this.” 

Me too, Ryan thought as he reached out to pause the playback. But - that, whatever it was, stopped him. He dragged the audio marker back thirty-seconds. There! In between Shane saying, “I can still see them,” and “I can still hear them,” was a voice that caused Ryan’s heart to stop. He threw his headphones at his keyboard and jumped back. 

Twin tears rolled down his cheeks as he panted for more air. The feeling of a thousand needles piercing his crawling flesh overtook him. An unpleasant shiver traveled down the length of his spine. 

It took only a heartbeat for Ryan to run into his bedroom and dive into the bed he shared with his boyfriend. The sudden dip of the mattress caused its occupant to awaken prematurely. 

“Wha -?” Shane groggily vocalized, his voice just a tad sharper than gravel. 

Ryan gathered Shane into his arms. Against the crown of his head, the smaller man whispered into his hair, “I’ll believe for you, okay?” 

Shane nodded, silent and unquestioning. 

That was fine. It was okay. He would never share what he had found, anyway. The moment he had the courage to do so, he would delete the original audio clip so no one could ever play it again. 

As Ryan rocked his lover back to sleep, he tried not to think of the electronic, child-like voice that beckoned, _“Come...with...us...Shane.”_


	3. Movie Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shyan prompt: Shane and Ryan watch horror movies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt is so cute I can’t - yes, please, send me more like this.

Shane felt tiny tremors beneath his fingertips as he typed a message to his online _Dungeons and Dragons_ player group. He glanced toward the corner of the desk where the likely origin of the vibration rested; sure enough, his phone’s screen illuminated, announcing that he had received several texts. With quick, practiced motions, he unlocked his phone and found three notifications: 

[Ryan BOOgara]: Can you come up to snuggle  
[Ryan BOOgara]: ?*  
[Ryan BOOgara]: Im lonely 

A smile pulled at the corner of Shane’s lips. He sent his friends a simple farewell for the night before departing to the bedroom he shared with Ryan. 

There, he found his lover drowning in the sea of their thick comforter, propped up against his pillow, phone in hand and glasses upon the bridge of his nose. His warm chocolate-brown eyes flitted from the bright screen to him. The tender expression that softened his visage beckoned Shane into their bed like a siren’s song. 

Shane scooped Ryan into a tight embrace and maneuvered the younger man so that his head rested upon his shoulder. He craned his neck to rest his mouth upon Ryan’s forehead. Against his skin, Shane murmured, “What movie are we going to watch?” 

Ryan laughed, “You’re catching on too quick. I was thinking _The VVitch.”_

“Great, that’ll put me right to sleep,” Shane said through a yawn. 

Ryan shot him a warning glance as he pressed play on the remote control. For the next couple of hours, Shane soothed all manner of startles, shivers and squeaks by cradling Ryan closely against his chest. Unlike Shane’s earlier prediction, it was the shorter man who eventually fell asleep first, succumbing to his boyfriend’s warmth and the fingers carding through his hair. 

As the ending credits rolled, Shane reached for the remote control. He turned the television off, plunging the room into tranquil darkness. Despite how dead his arm felt, pinned underneath Ryan’s body, he didn’t move. Instead, he burrowed deeper into the cuddle.


	4. Don't Worry About Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have a prompt! Ryan being worried about Shane in a haunted location! I seen a lot of stories the other way around, so maybe something different? :) Thanks in advance! :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11561511/chapters/25971804) prompt request, because it’s just so fitting. Enjoy! 
> 
> Mood Music: [don’t worry about me - killedmyself ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=06jQ9krG5T8)

“I thought - I thought I could -” Shane choked on the heavy sobs that crawled out of his lungs. 

Ryan watched helplessly as his lover dropped to the balls of his feet. Shane covered his face with his hands, as if he could contain the cacophonous wailing spewing from his mouth with his palms. “I’m sorry Ryan, I thought I could do this.”

With each cry, Ryan felt more and more of Shane’s sorrow burn through him like an erosive poison. His heart plummeted into his stomach, and for a moment, he feared he would be sick. 

With a single swoop, Ryan joined Shane on the ground. He wrapped his arms around his lover’s shoulders and pulled him in to rest against his chest. The feeling of wetness soaking the fabric of his shirt broke what was left of his shattered heart. 

How? How could his boyfriend, so outgoing and kind and wonderful, have been put through such a terrible event? No one deserved to watch their friends die so horrifically, least of all Shane. 

Ryan couldn’t imagine it. 

“I can still see them,” Shane confessed through a hiccup. “I can still hear them.” 

Ryan nodded absent-mindedly; his sole focus was on the physical comfort he could provide Shane. He rubbed his arm in the vain attempt to soothe away the ghosts that still haunted him, even if just for a moment. 

“I know - I know it’s just survivor’s guilt, but God, they look so real sometimes. I wish they were real, y’know? That I could just get swept up in this and believe that they’re still there somehow.” 

Ryan could only continue to hold Shane as the bitter taste of regret grew on his tongue.


	5. i wasn't enough for u

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> concept: shane and ryan have been friends since elementary schools and ryan just realized he is in love with shane (shane is oblivious but feels the same way deep down)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might actually be the cutest shit I have ever written. It physically hurts me how cute this prompt is. FUCK
> 
> Mood Music: [i wasn’t enough for u - BOJET](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NX5TvlysDLA) (Ignore the title of the song, lmao)

Ryan’s phone vibrated atop the coffee shop table he shared with Shane. He lifted the device to glance at its screen briefly, despite the other man’s disdainful eye roll. 

“She still texting you?” Shane asked before taking a small sip of his drink. “I keep telling you to ignore her.”

Ryan waged an internal battle between the temptation to text his ex-girlfriend back and listening to his childhood friend’s excellent advice. After a moment, the latter eventually won out; he placed the phone back onto its spot. “It’s not like she’s being mean or anything - if anything, she’s being way too supportive. The guilt’s kinda bumming me out.” 

Shane snorted. “That’s what you call supportive, huh?” He took another gulp, hiding behind his cardboard cup. 

Ryan rubbed his eyes with his palm. “It’s not like she dumped me because I came out. She just wants me to date the dude I like first,” he explained, for what felt like the thousandth time. The line felt so stale and rehearsed, but it remained the truth, regardless of Shane’s expert analysis on his life. 

“And what if you end up with this dude? What if you won't break up with him for her?” Shane asked with a biting tone Ryan wasn’t quite used to. “Sounds like a bunch of fucked up mind games to me.” 

Ryan exhaled a large breath through his nostrils. “I’m sure she’s thought of that - plus, there’s no guarantee this dude likes me back so it might not even matter.” 

Shane pointed at him with the same hand holding his coffee. “I say, if that dude - which, by the way, I’m going to eventually need a name - doesn’t like you, fuck getting back with her and just be single for a while. Spend some time with your buddies!”

“You are my buddies.” 

Shane clicked his tongue and winked. “Exactly.” 

Ryan wheezed. For a moment, the space between them was filled with their familiar, jovial laughter. It was a stark reminder of their history, spanning nearly two decades. As the air settled back into a tranquil silence, a lump lodged itself in Ryan’s throat. _Nothing ventured, nothing gained._ “What if I told you the guy I like is named Shane?” 

Shane laughed, “That's a coincidence, if I ever heard one.” 

Ryan looked away for a long moment, giving the idea time to finally settle in Shane’s brain. He looked back when he heard a quiet “oh” from his direction. As he analyzed Shane’s irritatingly blank face, his heart pounded, his palms grew sweaty, and he found his foot tapping incessantly despite himself. 

“That’s not a bad ‘oh’,” Shane assured him quickly. “I'm not, like, adverse to the idea. I’m just processing every- uh, wait, okay, when did this start?” 

“Around junior high, I think, I don't know, when you went to high school without me and I just missed you more than normal,” Ryan explained with words that tumbled out of his mouth unceremoniously. 

“Holy shit,” Shane mumbled. “If I knew - dude, do you have any idea how much I liked you in high school?” 

Ryan laughed beneath his breath. “What? You serious?” 

Shane nodded. “Yeah, but you were super ‘no homo’ back then.” 

“I was afraid of my feelings back then. I really didn't want anyone to find out.” 

“Took you long enough,” Shane said through the biggest, most wicked grin. “I just feel dumb that I didn’t notice for that long.” 

Ryan felt his cheeks grow warm. His heart slowed, though it continued to batter against his rib cage. The corners of his lips strained against the gravity of his enormous smile. “So, want to go out on a date?” 

Shane leaned back in his chair. He waved his coffee cup. “Is that not what we are already doing, boyfriend?” 

“Oh my God, do not call me that, I have a name,” Ryan playfully scolded. 

Shane simply leaned forward and tapped Ryan lightly on the nose. “Boyfriend.”


	6. Marilyn (Christoph Andersson Remix)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> that 'friends since elementary school' prompt made me feel things so: how about a little glimpse into their childhoods together? just like- important moments from kids having sleepovers to angsty teen crushes? you feel me?? thanks lol you a real one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness, anon! Thank you. 
> 
> This is a vent fic. This will be (sorta) angsty. I have no regrets. 
> 
> Mood Music: [Marilyn ft. Dominique LeJeune (Christoph Andersson Remix) - G-Eazy ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3BIv2BV3c-o)

Within one moment to the next, Ryan found himself thrown to the ground from where he had been climbing on the jungle gym. A bully, much bigger and older than he, stood over him. His expression was a culmination of tight lines and red skin. 

“Do you even speak english?” he shouted; spittle escaped his mouth with every word. “I said this is my playground.”

Just as soon as the bully had entered his vision, he was gone, replaced by the back of a child even taller than the previous one. The taller boy’s shoulders rolled. Ryan could hear the sand just ahead of him shift. “This is my playground now, and you can’t play here anymore,” he shouted. 

“I’m gonna tell on you!” Ryan heard the bully shout back. 

“Then go do it, stupid!” Ryan’s savior dared. The sand shifted again. The taller boy turned around to face Ryan and extend his hand. 

Ryan had never seen someone so beautiful before. Everything, from his light-colored hair, to his hazel eyes, to his radiant smile, was perfect. This ethereal being was flawless in a way he knew he could never be. 

From far away, in a voice much too deep for a child and without moving his lips, the angel said, “You’re gonna be okay.” 

And for the first time in his life, he believed it.

\---

The summer Lake Tahoe sun woke Ryan from his dream. He groaned, as though his wordless complaints could somehow coax the sun back back down beneath the horizon or conjure curtains in Shane’s grandparent’s guest room.

Ryan peered over the pillow in the middle of the bed. On the other side of the makeshift divide lay Shane, lovely mouth-agape, arm tossed adorably over his head, and long legs opened slightly. Inviting, Ryan thought involuntarily. 

A swell of something warm and unwanted filled Ryan’s chest. 

Ryan, in vain, tried his damndest to not notice how the seventeen-year-old’s tiny snores caused his hard, bare chest to rise and fall, or the way his other hand was splayed over the rise of his abdominals. When he forced himself to focus on Shane’s visage, he found himself in a hole he couldn’t dig out of; the shadow framing his mouth, unshaven due to laziness and inexperience, just accentuated his handsome features in a way that caused his heart to skip a beat. 

_Fuck._

\---

The other teens that stayed around the lake came to visit often, at the behest of Shane’s grandparents. Over the course of the summer, Shane and Ryan grew more and more accustomed to opening their tightknit circle, albeit reluctantly in the beginning. Just as the season peaked, the boys felt comfortable enough to agree to play a game of spin-the bottle beside a roaring bonfire.

“And none of that wimpy peck stuff, y’all gotta kiss for at least a full minute no matter who it lands on,” one of the girls ruled, to the agreement of the rest. 

After several rounds, it was Shane’s turn; to Ryan’s immediate horror, the bottle landed on him. A few of the girls squealed. The other boys, including Shane, laughed heartily. Meanwhile, Ryan felt as though he were on the wrong side of a gun. 

Shane crawled over to Ryan, hands and shins navigating through thick sand to reach him. With an upwards gesture, he beckoned Ryan to stand on his knees. The smaller boy did as was commanded, but not without repressing shivers of anticipation and dread. 

Shane cupped his cheek, and Ryan did the same to his friend. The fifteen-year-old shook as Shane leaned in. “Let’s give ‘em a show,” he whispered; the ghost of his breath sent shivers down Ryan’s spine. 

On instinct, Ryan closed his eyes, cocked his head and parted the seal of his mouth just enough to give Shane the opening he needed. The moment their lips touched, Ryan felt his lungs expand and his heart batter against his ribcage. The kiss was light enough to be playful, but the barest hint of tongue alluded to the serious nature of the act. Ryan couldn’t help but moan softly as he reciprocated the best he could, mimicking Shane’s movements. 

The nerves in Ryan’s fingertips and toes tingled. Without thought or command, he ran his hands through the back of Shane’s hair. The older boy trailed his own hands down Ryan’s back to eventual settle on his hips; it was a promise of intimacy Ryan found unnerving though he melted under the touch. 

All too soon, and not soon enough, Shane pulled away. Neither of them could seem to fulfill their lungs’ demand for more air. 

Cheers erupted all around them, but Ryan had never felt so low, dissapointed that the pleasure garnered by the best kiss of his young life, and quite possibly the best kiss he would ever receive, could never be replicated. The desire for such contact was an antithesis to his ultimate need: the safety of Shane’s friendship. 

_You’re gonna be okay… and that’s how it should stay._


	7. Sleepless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SHYAn PROMPT The lights go off in the middle of a video and the room starts shaking. Ryan seriously thinks he's going to die. Shane is like "dude chill it's an earthquake or something" Ryan and Shane see a silhouette across the room. Ryan grabs Shane + embraces him, hiding his face. "I love you." (he thinks he's gonna die so he might as well confess his feelings) The room continues to shake and the figure walks towards them. Shane pulls him closer, not admitting how scared he is. "I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mood Music: [Sleepless ft NYLO (Christoph Andersson Remix) - G-Eazy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jklFLMaNX28)

Being a resident of California, when the ground began to quake under his sneakers, despite being in Illinois, Shane’s immediate thought was, _‘Earthquake’._

That was until the beam of his flashlight centered itself on a humanoid silhouette from across the room. The thing would not illuminate. As if it were a black hole, the figure absorbed his light. Featureless, it appeared to be a shadow given tangibility. 

When Ryan asked, with a tremor in his voice, what it was, he had no reasonable answer to give. Instead, without taking his eyes off of the creature, he reached out to grip Ryan’s wrist with a sweaty hand. In the span of several pounding heartbeats, he nearly dragged his friend out of the room, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. He pushed Ryan into the pantry with a little more strength than he had intended, but was no less forceful when he commanded, “Stay here!” 

Shane closed the pantry doors before rushing into the living room. He reached the linen closet, where thankfully, a thick blanket was folded neatly on the top shelf. As he reached for it, his peripheral vision caught movement. Immediately, the room began to shake more forcefully. 

_‘Oh, fuck no,’_ … Shane found himself seething; his teeth ground, his eyes narrowed and a growl threatened to erupt from his throat. He ran back to the kitchen, blanket in hand, and fortunately found the space empty. 

Shane tore the pantry door open. Ryan sat on the floor, knees bent, hands over his head, curled into a ball; a position well-rehearsed after years of schooling in Los Angeles. The taller man joined his friend just after shutting the door behind him. In one swift movement, he covered himself and Ryan with the makeshift debris shield.

“S-Shane -” Ryan began. 

“Dude, chill, it’s an earthquake,” Shane said under his panting, unable to reconcile what he had seen with reality. In contrast to his words, he pulled Ryan close to his chest and wrapped a protective arm around his shoulders. 

Within a moment, he felt Ryan lower his arms to wrap them around his middle. In the safe crook of the taller man’s shoulder, he hid his face, burying his nose against the top of Shane’s neck. Over his skin, he murmured, “I love you.”

In spite of himself, tiny shivers traveled down the length of his body from where the warmth of Ryan’s words touched him. He felt as though his heart could burst with the adrenaline coursing to it. If his lungs were oxygen starved before, they were absolutely deprived then. 

“I know,” Shane whispered. He closed his eyes, held Ryan tighter, and confessed, “Me too, I love you.” 

The shaking stopped. For several seconds, Shane and Ryan remained quiet in the stillness, only filling the void with their breathlessness. 

“I’m going to check if it’s safe to leave,” Shane declared. He attempted to stand, but Ryan clung to him. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Shane assured Ryan with a smile. “I’ll be fine.” 

After another small moment, Ryan released Shane. The taller man traveled out of the pantry and slowly, haltingly, made his way passed the kitchen and into the living room. No faceless monsters. No structural damage that threatened to bring down the ceiling. Great. 

Shane pivoted on his heel. To his surprise, he found Ryan, seemingly attempting to curl in on himself, but only a few steps behind him.

The rush of warmth that spread through Shane’s body softened the line of his lips into a small smile. Riding the swell of his affection for the smaller man, he reached out and laced their hands together. 

Shane would keep Ryan safe, no matter what.


	8. And Then You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> amazingaida asked: heya! same AmazingAida from ao3, I decided to check out your tumblr and I'm in love with it ngl <3 so, since i'm here, concept: ryan wearing shane's shirts bc shane is a very tol bean and just ryan wearing them when he gets scared for comfort and just ahhhh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, in all seriousness, thank you so much! I kind of ran away with this prompt, because it is so cute.
> 
> Mood Music: [And Then You - Greg Laswell ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B7Y5tn1i0_k)(Totally recommend this song for any Shyan/Skeptic Believer playlist).

Ryan was disappointed to see the white stucco walls of his apartment complex come into view through his Uber car’s front window. Too soon, he would be alone again. The emptiness that hallowed out his insides, forgotten momentarily by his latest Unsolved-related journey, ached.

Ryan glanced at the passenger beside him; he was almost tempted to ask Shane if he was willing to get a drink, eat some dinner, catch a movie, or do anything that would distract him for just a little while longer. Nevertheless, he decided against it.

After his driver parked in the designated area, Ryan gave Shane a small smile. “Well, goodnight, I’ll see you in a couple days.”

Shane returned the brief expression, though his hazel-eyes shimmered with a genuine mirth Ryan could not feel. “You sure you’re alright? I know that last place spooked you, and I have nowhere to be,” he said with something so sweet, so gentle in his voice that it made his heart skip a beat.

A million innocent fantasies of what time spent together would entail flashed through his mind, but he thought better than to inconvenience Shane in such a way. Spending time on a stiff couch with gross takeout food roiling in his belly, was not something he would ever wish upon his friend. Ryan shook his head. “I’m alright.” 

“Okay, man, well, text me if you need anything.”

Ryan nodded before opening the car door.

===

It was difficult to forget the ghost of his prior relationship haunting his home. Outlines of dust where picture frames once stood, indentations in the carpet left behind by non-existent furniture, and the silence, only cut through by the squeaking of his suitcase’s wheels, served as constant reminders of the phantom.

Ryan entered his bedroom (and attempted to ignore the lack of decor within its four walls). His suitcase was thrown on the bed with little care. In an attempt to fish out something to wear for the night, he opened the bag, only to discover that Shane’s sleeping shirt rested atop his clothes. It took a moment to remember that its current residence was a product of Shane’s oversight and a hurried need to checkout of their room before an additional fee was placed on their hotel bill.

The amateur ghost-detective unfolded the crumbled piece of clothing, that had been haphazardly thrown in his baggage. Something about the large, faded-grey shirt tugged at the corners of his lips and caused a swell of affection to bloom in his chest. Despite his better judgement, Ryan brought the fabric to his nose and breathed in the scent of his friend. It was enough, just enough, to offer a semblance of comfort.

That night, he fell into a pleasantly deep sleep, wearing the boxers he already had on and Shane’s shirt.

===

“Is that my shirt?”

Ryan briefly glanced down at his form. It was obvious that the top did not belong to him; the fabric flowed over his muscular form and it hung around the tops of his thighs. Without meaning to, he had, indeed, worn Shane’s shirt as a part of his nighttime attire, just as he had for the last week. 

The smaller man swallowed an embarrassed lump lodged in his throat. “Yeah, sorry, do you want it back?”

Shane grinned and shook his head. “No, I just think it’s kinda cute.”

Heat spread over Ryan’s cheeks, a tingling sensation overtook his fingertips and toes, and his heart began to batter itself against his rib cage. He huffed out a shaky, nervous laugh. “Thanks, I think.”

Shane chuckled, the sound of which seemingly rumbled in Ryan’s own chest somehow. The other man made his way to the en-suite with his own sleepwear in hand, meanwhile, his companion tried not to think of what Shane looked like dressed down to nothing but his underwear.

Moments later, after the lights had been turned off, Ryan made himself comfortable on his side, underneath the sheets of his hotel bed. He closed his eyes, but an unnatural buzz electrified the flesh just underneath his skin and wired his poor brain. 

God! How lonely had he been that Shane’s compliment sent him soaring so high with excitement?

In the distance, the sound of clicking, followed by a door closing shut, was heard. After so many nights spent in the same room, the pit-pats of Shane’s steps were unmistakable. Ryan expected them to soften as he approached his side of the room, as they always did, but that was not the case this time. On the contrary, they fell heavier and heavier until the very edge of his bed dipped.

What was Shane doing? He wasn’t - was he? Adrenaline sped his heart and forced his lungs to take in more breath.

The length of his bed sank further. Ryan rolled his shoulder to peer over at where Shane lay next to him. The taller man’s expression was neutral, soft and searching. With a halting hand, Shane reached out to slide his fingers across the bare skin of his arm, a trail of pleasant goosebumps left in their wake.

Unable to stand the sudden and incredible tension in the air, Ryan turned his body to face Shane’s. Within the same heartbeat, the two men were helpless against the magnetic force conjured between them. They inched towards each other, their movements unsure and slow, as if they were playing a childish game of courage, yet neither faltered. 

Just as Ryan could feel the warmth of Shane’s breath on his cheek, the gall to look him in the eye drained. He gazed down at his friend’s heaving chest, mirroring his own. A kind hand found its way to the shorter man’s cheek, forcing it upwards just as Shane leaned in to press his lips against the corner of his mouth. 

Ryan tilted his head to give Shane the opportunity to continue. A fire spread through Ryan’s veins as Shane’s gesture of affection turned from chaste to maddening by adding just the barest hint of tongue. The sounds of the their breath mixing and the sheets rustling over them only added kindling to his desire.

Merely on instinct, Ryan felt himself maneuver onto his back; Shane shifted over him. They both quaked against each other, placed in such a foreign yet delightful position.

Regardless, his would-be lover’s large hands trailed down the sides of Ryan’s body to rest playfully over his hips. Ryan found one of his own hands resting against Shane’s whiskered cheek, and the other buried in his kitten-soft hair. The hum of approval he received as a reward ran down his spine in the form of a wonderful shiver.

Shane pulled away to rid himself of his obtrusive top. Reluctantly, Ryan attempted to imitate the action, but Shane stopped him with a shake of his head. “No, keep it on, it -” he trailed off.

Ryan understood the unspoken inclination completely. That was perfectly fine by him. He had no desire to part from Shane’s shirt either.


	9. i'm sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: shane gets drunk because he's too in love with Ryan and he thinks there's no way in hell Ryan reciprocates,, when ryan drives him home he's just crying and ryan asks why and the floodgates break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Praise! Thank you for this prompt request. I made this way cuter than I intended, which is odd for me, since I’m the king of angst. Anyway, here it is! 
> 
> Mood Music: [im sorry (feat. shiloh) - swell](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6mtn1YWyJas)

If Ryan hadn’t seen the spectacle for himself, he would have never believed the text message he had received earlier that night. (Morning, he reminded himself, it was three in the _fucking_ morning.)

Sure enough, the picture sent to him, by Shane no less, imitated life: the big guy himself, absolutely drunk, surrounded by strangers at a watering hole usually patroned by Ryan. 

Certainly, Shane drank on occasion, but far less than his shorter friend. He was also not one to get so rip-roaringly wasted as he was that night (morning, _fuck me_ ). Such a display Ryan had only come close to seeing once before, during an experiment for a video where the very point was to get as intoxicated as possible. But, even that version of Shane was subdued in comparison to this one, who belted out what sounded like an Irish folk song with the small crowd gathered around him.

Shane, in a strange moment of clarity, spotted Ryan just outside the circle of inebriated people. His hazel eyes trained on him with an intensity Ryan found slightly unnerving. A grin spread across his reddened face. “Ry’! Hey! You came!” he declared.

Ry’? Ryan gulped down the nervous lump lodged in his throat as Shane hopped over to him. Suddenly, he was wrapped in a pair of constricting arms and swallowed into an uncomfortably tight embrace. “I missed you,” Shane murmured against his hair.

“Yeah, I got your text,” Ryan confirmed. “Why don’t I take you home?”

At the very least, Ryan expected some sort of protest, (that’s something he certainly would have done), but none came. Instead, Shane laughed. Without letting go of him, Shane shouted over his shoulder. “Hear that guys? He’s going to take me home!”

Odd, but undeterred, Ryan slipped out of his hold and gently took him by the crook of his arm. He led the unsteady man several paces forward before someone shouted behind them, “Let him suck your dick, Ryan!” The entire bar, including Shane, erupted in a chorus of laughter.

_What was going on here?_

===

In the car, Shane babbled about his night, which had apparently been an impromptu celebration of his post-breakup life.

Ryan definitely sympathized, although his personal journey through singlehood was the complete opposite; he reflected more and began to appreciate the pleasure of his own company.

Ryan snorted; it was ironic that two of them would reverse their roles in such a way.

A muffled sob disturbed his reverie. Ryan quickly glanced toward Shane to find the man hiding his face in his hands. The sound of his soft cries escaped between the spaces of his fingers.

Ryan's chest ached as hot alarm burned down to his stomach. “Hey,” he said softly. “What’s wrong, man?”

Shane sniffled. “I can't …”

“You can't what?”

Shane took in a deep breath. “I can't tell you,” he breathed out. “You'll hate me.”

Ryan suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Alarm roiled into irritation. God, he was too tired for this game. “I won't hate you,” he promised, his words laced with exasperation . “Just tell me.”

“You promise you won't hate me?” Shane asked as though he were a small child.

“Yes, I promise.”

“Pinky swear?”

“Oh. My. God. Dude!”

The moment he looked upon Shane again, Ryan knew he had made a mistake. The man looked absolutely pitiful  
with his eyes downcast, shoulders drooped, and hands fidgeting uselessly in his lap.

A sigh crawled out of Ryan's throat. He extended his hand out, lifting his pinky finger up. “I pinky swear.”

Shane interlocked his little finger with Ryan's. He didn't let go. If anything, his hold on Ryan’s appendage tightened as he admitted, in rush of breath and slurred words, “I t-think I'm in l-love with you.”

“Wait, what?!”

===

Shane awoke with a headache so terrible it felt as though a semi had run over his skull. The flashing lights behind his eyes and the pounding at his temples gave him images of a rave being thrown in his brain. With a small moan, he regretted every life decision that had led him to where he was.  
Where was he, exactly?

Shane strained to open his eyes just a crack. The setting was definitely not his house. It seemed as if he was in the guest room of Ryan Bergara’s - _oh no!_

What had he done? What had he said?

Just then, Ryan peaked into the room through the partially-opened door. “Oh good, you're awake,” he said, thankfully, cheerfully. He entered the room, a glass of water in one hand and a bottle of Advil in the other.

Shane sat up with halted motions, each accompanied by a flinch. Ryan sat next to him and handed the taller man his offerings. Shane took them, but not without blurting out, “Listen, I'm sorry if what I said last night freaked you out -”

Ryan interrupted him with a lingering kiss to the cheek. Shane felt an incredible warmth travel from where his lips rested against his whiskered skin, down to the depths of his chest. When the shorter man pulled away, the shy smile he gave nearly melted him into a puddle of goop.

“I would kiss you on the lips, but I'm not infatuated enough with you yet to get over your dank morning breath.”  
They both laughed heartily.


	10. Metropol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt; this week on buzzfeed unsolved, what IS shane scared of?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love to mess with Shane, so I’m definitely going out of order by finishing this prompt first.
> 
> If you watch [“Do You Really Swallow Spiders When You Sleep?”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1B6tensgwfw&t=100s) and [“3 Horrifying Cases of Ghosts and Demons”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mx8JkGHaGUI), I think it’s pretty obvious what Shane’s afraid of. 
> 
> Mood Music: [Metropol - Christoph Andersson](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E0ThSa6xmpY)

Shane didn't know, until it was far too late, that the Midwest was riddled with creatures known as wolf spiders.

Shane liked to think that he was a friend to all manner of beasts, including arachnids, but something about the size and shape of this miniature tarantula scared the ever loving shit out of him.

As his scream echoed throughout the walls of their hotel bathroom, he cursed the Spider Woman and The Island of the Haunted Dolls for giving him this strange, new fear. Spiders were forever ruined for him.

With the force of a hurricane, Ryan burst through the door and into the bathroom. “What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked in a single breath.

Shane shook his head while holding the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. “It's nothing, just a spider on the counter,” he sighed.

Ryan pivoted around Shane to stand near the granite counter. As the younger man leaned forward to get a closer look, the spider remained motionless near the sink. “This week on _Buzzfeed Unsolved_ , we discuss ‘What is Shane afraid of?’ Spiders, apparently,” he giggled under his breath, meanwhile keeping an eye on the rogue arachnid.

“You're telling me, Mr. Jumps-At-Every-Noise, that you wouldn't be afraid of that huge thing?” Shane asked, more amused than truly annoyed.

His answer came in the form of Ryan’s scream the moment the spider goddamn leaped across the counter. The shorter man took refuge in Shane’s unsuspecting arms. Nevertheless, the taller man pulled Ryan in a warm, protective embrace.

When the adrenaline finally drained from their bodies, they peered at each other. Ryan’s eyes were warm, searching, and his cheeks were stained scarlet. The seam of his lips parted, allowing his sharp, short pants to escape. Shane found himself just as breathless; his chest rose and fell against Ryan’s in a way that felt far too intimate.

The tension lodged itself in Shane's throat. He swallowed. “Maybe we should call the front desk to get rid of it for us?”

The spell broken, Ryan dislodged himself from his friend and smiled in agreement. “Y-yeah, you do that.”

===

The rest of the evening was spent in awkward silence. 


	11. Revolutionary Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> can i request a shyan fic where the two get into a fight??? im in the mood for angst i guess lol. thank u!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, another out-of-order-prompt-fill, but my mom, Luke and I watched [Revolutionary Road](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qADM67ZgYxM) the other night, so this little idea popped into my head. This prompt was the perfect excuse to bring it to life. I apologize if this isn’t what you were looking for, but I’m sure this will fulfill the angst requirement quite nicely. This may seem weird at first, but please, stick around until the end. It will make sense. 
> 
> Mood Music: [Love - Lana Del Rey](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3-NTv0CdFCk)

“What's this?” 

Shea held a rectangular mechanical device in his shaking hand.

Regan turned away, unable to bare looking at the hard lines, scarlet skin and hateful scowl on his visage. How long had it been since he wore the soft, warm expression she had fallen for so easily? Years, it seemed. Too many years. 

“Don't you ignore me,” Shea hissed. He took hold of Regan’s wrist in a vicegrip. She suppressed a yelp of pain, much too prideful to show weakness to the man who once thought her demure and passive. Shea pulled his wife closer until her gaze could only focus on his blazing eyes. “Did you spend the money I earned for this house on silly ghost shit again? The money for our children’s food and clothes? For our livelihood?” 

“Let. Go. Of. Me,” she commanded with viperous hisses. In a swift movement, she pulled her arm away until it came loose from her husband’s grasp. “Don't you dare touch me!” 

With a growl, Shea threw the device in question against the wall. It shattered in a brilliant burst of plastic and wires. “You read one book about a pair of crazies and you suddenly think you're a ghost hunter, huh?” 

“Just because I have an interest -” 

“Interest?” Shea’s laugh was cold and cruel. “You're out of your mind with these obsessions of yours! Just last month you donated our life savings to a church you went to twice! Before that, it was classes on computers, and before that it was painting -” 

Regan smacked the meat of Shea’s shoulder with her open palm. Tears stung her eyes. With a wet, hoarse voice, she screamed, “You're just angry that I'm not obsessed with you anymore! That I don't follow you around like a lost puppy. That I don't crave your validation!” 

Shea exhaled a breath through his flaring nostrils. With an eerie calm, he whispered, “I'm angry that you can't just be content being my wife, our children’s mother.” 

“Because that's not all I am!” Regan dissolved into sobs. “I can't do this.” She pivoted on her heel. 

Just as she attempted to exit the kitchen, Shea pleaded, “Wait!” 

Startled, Regan froze. She remained immobile at the entryway; she did not turn to face her husband, but she could not walk away. 

Silence permeated the moment, cut only by their shared, labored breathing. 

“What are we doing? Why do we keep coming back to this?” Shea finally sighed. 

Regan shrugged. With a shaky breath, she said, “I-I think it's because we never aired this out, we never got closure. We’re still so angry inside.” 

“I'm not.” 

Regan turned. She was shocked to see Shea’s eyes so open, so hurt. 

Her husband approached slowly, haltingly, as though she were a spooked animal. Once he was at an arm’s length, he pulled her close. Their heaving chests rose and fell against each other, and it was the most intimate touch they shared in decades. 

“I never told you how sorry I was,” Shea wept. “I’m so sorry, I was too afraid to realize you weren’t well. I should have been more supportive.”

Regan’s cries fell against her husband’s broad, welcoming chest. “I-I should have just talked to you, included you in what I was feeling, if I had been braver, maybe we could have -” 

Shea shook his head. He rested his lips against the crown of her head. With a murmur, he soothed,“No, let's not torture each other like that, we’re together again, and that's what matters.”

===

For the first time in a long, long time, they held each other as they fell asleep, finally at peace.

===

Ryan awoke with a dull ache just behind his eyes. He brought his hand up to rub the space above his oddly damp cheeks. A sharp pain radiated up and down his arm; with a wince, he inspection the appendage and found purple bands discoloring the flesh of his wrist.

How did that happen? 

“Looks gnarly.” 

Ryan turned his head to the side to see Shane emerge from their shared bathroom, still clad in his sleepwear, circular glasses upon the bridge of his nose. 

“Yeah,” the shorter man agreed. “Kinda looks like someone grabbed it or something.” 

Shane pointed to the wall behind his companion. Ryan craned his head. Above him, the black railing of his headboard provided a clue as to what had occurred. Maybe he banged his wrist against it while he slept? 

The size and shape of the individual rails did not match the pattern of his bruising. Also, he was sure that if he had hit himself with enough force to cause such an injury, he would’ve woken up. 

Nevertheless, he did not have enough caffeine in his system to delve much further into the mystery. Instead, he took Shane on his suggestion to go downstairs and enjoy the “breakfast” portion of their AirBnB.

===

Shane couldn't find a logical explanation for why Ryan’s EMF-detector lay broken on the ground of their rented kitchen.

After some investigation, Ryan made the executive decision to book another hotel for the evening. He did not share with Shane what he had found; a horrific double-suicide had occurred in the very room they previously occupied, and the individuals involved bore a striking, almost-terrifying, resemblance to them.


	12. Tense Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: ryan is concerned when shane sleeps with his feet hanging off the bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I have been so lazy. I’m going to churn more of these out!
> 
> [Mood Music: Tense Past - Holy Other](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LSmB4h2JAvs)

Ryan emerged from his bathroom to find Shane already lying on his stomach, holding onto his pillow with a python’s grip, and snoring loud enough for it to be quite the concern for his poor throat. 

The younger man felt the warm fluttering of endearment begin to bloom in his chest, until he caught sight of his boyfriend’s foot hanging off the edge of the bed. Horror churned his stomach. Although this was not the first time he had witnessed this nighttime habit, it was the first time Shane did this while sleeping in their bed. Somehow, that made the prospect much more terrifying. 

Despite himself, his mind conjured the image of a rotted arm slithering from underneath the box spring, its pallid hand taking hold of Shane’s ankle, and sinking its black claws into his delicate flesh. 

Without further thought, Ryan tiptoed around the various cardboard boxes labeled “Bedroom” scattered on the floor. Just as he reached down to gently push the foot back underneath the covers, Shane, without moving or opening his eyes, growled, “Stop being silly.” 

Ryan swallowed. “Just move your damn foot.” 

With a slight gravel to his voice that Ryan found very appealing, Shane argued, “Leave my foot alone, or I’ll just have sex with you.”

Ryan huffed out a small laugh. He pushed the appendage underneath the comforter.


	13. In Difference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: One of them gets seriously injured somehow (like being shot? Maybe) and the other one is the person who finds them after a few missed voicemails saying that they feel unsafe and they have to suffer in the waiting room and go through the "if he lives I have to tell him how I feel.. no exceptions" train of thought and just Angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, obviously, I'm now posting my prompt fills on AO3. It's easier and more secure than Google Docs! So, yay! 
> 
> Anyway, this got angsty really quickly, so uh, yeah, sorry? 
> 
>  
> 
> [Mood Music: In Difference - Holy Other](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XW0DC2OI3Es)

Shane can’t get the blood off his hands. 

He keeps washing them (and washing them, and washing them, and washing -), but every time he runs the rough, hospital grade paper towel over his raw, stinging skin, he finds more blood in between the spaces of his fingers, underneath his nails, on the corner of his wrist. When his hands start to shake so much he can no longer focus on them, he knows the blood is there by the acrid metallic smell that assaults his nose. 

Frustration takes his shoulders and punches him in the stomach. He screams, a guttural, animalistic sound that reverberates throughout the small public restroom. His teeth grind, his nostrils flare, and his muscles tense to the point of pain. Against his better judgement, he punches the wall next to the mirror, leaving his knuckles cracked and bruised. Yet, blissfully, he now feels numb. 

Shane walks out of the restroom and into a flurry of emergency room doctors and nurses running every which way. He wonders if maybe one of them is treating Ryan’s gunshot wounds. 

His stomach flips, and he’s suddenly dizzy again. He almost falls; to steady himself, he takes hold of a wall corner. A small, homely woman asks him if he’s alright. On instinct, he nods. Then, he babbles, “My friend - I - I still have his blood on my shirt, oh god.” 

Shane dissolves into a sobbing fit. A gaggle of nurses rush to him, surrounding him as his knees buckle. He can’t help but to think, bitterly, that they have no business trying to help him when it’s Ryan that needs them the most, but he takes the clean scrubs and water they hand him anyway. Like a child, he’s led to the nearest restroom to change.

===

Shane can’t remember the last time he’s bartered with God for anything, but damn, he’s negotiating now.

 _If Ryan survives I’ll…_ and he promises, promises, promises, knowing full well he won’t be able to keep any of them. He tries anyway. 

_If Ryan survives, I’ll finally tell him how I feel._ Even Shane is shocked by his own vow. Though the secret hollows out his insides and shatters his heart more and more each day, he remains silent, unable to bring himself to admit his amorous affection for his companion. Even the very potential of losing Ryan due to a confession was unacceptable - that was until the younger man’s life was at stake. 

Somewhere between the panic and grief clouding his head, the irony of such an oath makes sense. The universe was offering him a choice: Ryan’s life or the memory of their unmarred friendship. Either way, by the end of the night, he was going to lose him. 

The line of Shane’s lips soften into a small, sad smile. He knows what he has to do: 

Shane was going to love Ryan enough to let him go. 

A man wearing green surgical scrubs makes quick strides towards the metal bench Shane is sitting on. He asks if he's Shane Madej, to which he nods. The man introduces himself as Ryan’s surgeon and delivers the fortunate news: Ryan is going to make it! Even better, he is awake and asking for him.  
===

Ryan, in typical fashion, is watching a basketball game in his recovery room. He seems bright and alert, the perfect juxtaposition to the shivering, pale mess he found at their filming location. Regardless, there is a pink, kidney-shaped bucket in his left hand, and Shane suddenly feels even more guilty for the news he's about to share.. 

“H-hey,” Shane announces his presence from the open door. 

Ryan’s face illuminates with the biggest smile. (Shane feels the cracks in his heart splinter further.) “Hey! There he is!” He hurriedly motions towards the empty chair next to his bed. 

Shane gladly takes the seat. He's still dizzy, and the feeling becomes worse and worse with each passing second. His heart hammers against his chest. Sweat pools across his forehead. For the life of him, he can't stop fidgeting with his fingers. It takes every ounce of his willpower to not listen to his legs’ demand to run. 

From far away, Ryan is explaining his harrowing surgery. He catches snippets like “tons of blood”, “nicked bowel”, “could’ve died”, “cool ass scar”. 

Shane swallows. He’s looking down from the precipice of a cliff. He knows he has to jump. All he has to do is take that leap. No backing out now. He closes his eyes and allows himself to fall. 

With a rush of breath, he exhales, “I need to tell you something!” 

“Okay,” Ryan says, extending the word by several syllables. “I feel like my thing is cooler, but go for it.” 

Several starting sentences flash through his head, _What I'm about to say is going to come as a shock, I'm so sorry, You're going to hate me after this, I tried to not feel this way, Your friendship means so much to me, but, no, he can't tip-toe around this anymore._ A sob crawls out of his throat. 

“Hey, whoa, whoa, it's okay Shane, I was just joking -” 

Shane shakes his head to interrupt his friend’s attempts at comfort. It won’t work. With another breath, he admits, “I'm in love with you.” 

“Oh” is the most painful, single syllable word in the english language, and Shane feels like he’s going to die from it. 

“I don’t really think now is a good time to talk about this,” Ryan continues slowly, carefully. 

Shane nods in agreement, more out of instinct than anything else, as the idea only passes shallowly through his mind. His focus now is on the sun setting on their friendship. Fat, heavy tears roll down his cheeks as he waits for the final moment between them. 

“No, not like -” Ryan’s expression twists into something between joy and alarm. “I’m, like, super high on painkillers, man, and I really want you to ask me out when I’m sober in case you try to talk me into something crazy like a hot air balloon ride.” 

Shane freezes in disbelief. It takes a full minute to wrap his mind around the notion that he isn’t losing Ryan, he isn’t even being rejected. In fact, Ryan starts to suggest what they do on their first date. 

Without further pretense, Shane reaches out and takes Ryan’s hand into his own; he won't ever let it go.


	14. The Lube Fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone sends Ryan a 55-gallon drum of lube, and Shane finds a good use for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is not my fault. This was prompted during a game of CAH. 
> 
> Anyway, yeah, enjoy...

It took two delivery men to move the crate of _lord-knows-what_ into the Buzzfeed Los Angeles entertainment building. The package, with no discernible marked sender, was addressed to Ryan Bergara, and so it remained just behind his computer chair, a perplexing riddle for the staff around him to attempt to solve. After several hours, with no volunteer to take the obtrusive object away no matter his pleas to the building’s management, he announced that he was going to, finally, uncover what was inside. 

A small crowd gathered around the wooden box. A facilities manager provided Ryan with a crowbar to pry the top open (though, he was suspiciously absent when Ryan asked that the package be removed). When the contents inside saw the florescent light of the office, a murmur descended upon the circle of coworkers. A blue drum of some sort stood within the crate’s confines. 

Ryan’s immediate thought was that some sick individual was attempting to prank him with a fake body. Then, he imagined an actual corpse decomposing in front of him. Though his heart pounded, his palms sweat, and his flesh crawled, his curiosity demanded to be sated. He lifted the lid off of the container to find a clear, viscous liquid inside. 

Ryan reached in and briefly dipped a single finger in the substance. He rubbed the sticky material between his thumb and forefinger as he tried to discern what it was. “What-?” 

Giggles erupted all around him. “Ryan, man, that’s lube.” 

“Shit!”

\---

“So, it’s still here, huh?” 

Ryan threw a glance over his shoulder to find Shane, laptop bag strapped over his back, kicking at the fifty-five gallon drum of lubricant. 

“Yeah, I literally asked everyone if it was for some sort of shoot, but no one’s been able to tell me shit,” Ryan explained as he turned his computer chair to face his boyfriend. 

Shane bent his knees. With an exaggerated squint, he looked upon the address slip. “Looks like it’s addressed to a Mr. Ryan Bergara, and since the only other one is in the Philippines…”

Ryan, despite himself, found his lips stretching into a grin. “Shut up, Shane.” 

Shane lifted himself back into a standing position before slowly approaching Ryan’s seat. His movements were suddenly deliberate and predatory. A wicked glint in his eyes and the devilish smirk upon his lips darkened his expression, sending the shorter man’s heart racing. 

Shane set his laptop bag down. “You know,” he started as he undid the first two buttons of his shirt. “I think we can come up with a good use for it.” 

Ryan swallowed around the lump that formed in his throat.

\---

The obscene sounds of squelching reverberated throughout the dark, empty office. 

Ryan, back towards his lover, strained to keep himself upright over Shane's lap, while the man was seated in his computer chair. Two of Shane’s long, beautiful fingers stretched him out in the best possible way, pumping and scissoring until he was left panting. Each delightful stroke over his sweet spot conjured a pleasured howl from Ryan; the feeling of it was almost enough to buckle his knees. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Shane breathed into the sensitive shell of Ryan’s ear. The words traveled in the form of shivers down the younger man’s spine. “I think I’m going to need that whole thing to get you wet enough for me.” 

Ryan moaned. He gripped the armrests of his chair hard enough to hurt. His entire body quaked with a want so powerful it drove all rational thought from his brain. 

“Okay,” Shane whispered. “I think you’re ready for me.” 

The sound of a zipper being pulled down was the sweetest music Ryan had ever heard. Shane led Ryan to ready his hole just above the taller man’s cock, and mercifully, allowed him to sheath it with a single movement. Their twin groans were drowned out by the sound of Ryan’s chair squeaking from his impatient rocking. 

The couple’s position didn’t allow for deep thrusts, but it was no matter. Even the small undulating motions Ryan made with his hips sent them both spiraling into a pool of bliss. Heat boiled in their bellies as every nerve was lit with passion. The ridiculousness of the package, the public setting, and the way Shane growled possessively in his ear all served to turn Ryan on in a way he couldn't have predicted was possible. Before long, he felt his climax near. 

“Shane, I’m -” 

“Not yet,” Shane nearly snarled. “Not until I say.” 

Ryan whimpered; he was so, so close, and the command just pushed him further towards the edge. His hands clenched and his toes curled. In a desperate attempt to coax Shane’s inner beast, he pleaded, “Fuck, please, daddy, let me cum.” 

Shane’s hips stuttered at that. The gasp that erupted from his throat nearly sent Ryan over the edge. “Fuck, yeah, baby, do it, cum for me.” 

Ryan cried out as he came, untouched. Aftershocks, brought on by the feeling of Shane’s seed, eroded any semblance of reality. There was nothing but the warm body under him and the utter ecstasy coursing through his veins. 

It would only be later, once they readied themselves and their things, that Ryan worried about the “mysterious” stains on his chair and on the carpet.


	15. Boss (Ryan Hemsworth Remix)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _some sort of angry shyan sex (if you're into writing nsfw!!!) would be awesome_
> 
> Ryan becomes angry; Shane is more than happy to make it up to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I am very, very sorry for this. I had way too much fun with this. Also, there isn't enough bottom!Shane (in fact, I don't think there is any bottom!Shane) in this fandom. Therefore, this became a thing. 
> 
> (Also, not sure why, but I keep imagining Shane looking as he did in the ancient aliens episode of _Buzzfeed Unsolved_ , beard and all, for this? I don't even know...)
> 
>  
> 
> **Warning(s): implied bottom!Shane, rough oral sex, slight dom/sub dynamics.**
> 
> **Mood Music:[Boss (Ryan Hemsworth Remix) - Tinashe](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tGl82UpQai8)**

“Why the hell are you telling people you're single?!”

Slightly startled, Shane’s eyes flitted up from the screen of his smartphone to find Ryan standing in the open doorway of his bedroom. Red-cheeked, nostrils flared, hands clenched, brow furrowed, the man was absolutely _fuming._

Shane had never seen Ryan so _furious_ before. Even during their more impassioned bantering, Ryan hadn’t seemed to tip over the edge of irritation into rage. 

Shane swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. Cold anxiety pricked at his skin... but something _odd_ warmed his belly. 

A strange arousal manifested at seeing this unfamiliar, and powerful, side of Ryan. The way his eyes darkened into the color of cooled magma, the way his shoulders squared back, and the way his chest rose and fell with his harsh breathing, all served to send electric shocks of lust down Shane’s spine. The older man felt like prey in the presence of this new predator, and it was very, _very_ enticing. 

Shane gave his boyfriend a smile he hoped was reassuring. “I only agreed to do that stupid video, because you said you didn’t want to come out yet.” 

Ryan crossed his arms. “You could’ve said you were dating someone without giving them details,” he growled. 

Shane pursed his lips, sighed through his nose, and rolled his eyes. This was definitely not an argument worth having, especially when all he wanted was for Ryan to fuck him, _hard_. He rolled out of bed and approached his lover slowly, deliberately. Once in arm’s reach, he took hold of Ryan’s wrist with a gentle grip and attempted to pull him towards the bed. 

“Come on,” he whispered, the sound coming from low in his throat. “I’m sure there’s a way I can make it up to you.” 

Just then, with a movement so quick Shane hardly registered it, Ryan pushed his shoulders down until the taller man was on his knees. Shane peered up while Ryan scowled down at him. 

The air thickened with a tension that filled Shane’s lungs until he could hardly breathe. The warmth in his belly was replaced with a fire that spread throughout his body. Desire made him _ache_. Yes, yes, he wanted this, so _fucking_ badly. _Use me_ , he pleaded with his half-lidded hazel eyes.

The shorter man unbuckled his belt and undid his jeans wordlessly. When Shane attempted to touch him, Ryan batted his hands away. Without help, he fished his cock out of his underwear.

Ryan stroked himself once, twice, before commanding Shane to, “Open your goddamn mouth.” 

Gladly, Shane obliged, and suddenly, his maw was filled with Ryan’s girth. By God, he nearly melted from the intense heat of the moment. He closed his eyes and moaned. 

Shane pulled back just enough to not choke on the boy’s length, but left most of it within the wet, hot cavern of his hollowed out cheeks, desperate to please his lover. His hand wrapped around the base of his boyfriend’s dick to pump it in time with the sudden _enthusiastic_ bobbing of his head. With precise, well-practiced motions, he used his tongue to place a soft pressure against the sensitive area where the head and shaft of Ryan’s cock met.

Fuck, the way Ryan twitched in his mouth made him crave the younger man’s gratification even more. Shane groaned in encouragement, the vibrations of which caused Ryan to grunt and thrust his hips upward. 

“Fuck,” Ryan breathed out. “You’re such a slut for this.” 

After taking a one last moment to relish Ryan’s taste, smell, and weight on his tongue, Shane released him from his lips. As his hand continued to work over his cock, he grinned up at him. “You know I only do this for you, baby.” 

Ryan buried his hand in Shane’s hair to place a firm grip on his locks, causing the taller man to gasp in surprise. “You better.”

The words, and small pinpricks of pain, went straight to Shane’s own dick. With a small whimper, he palmed his throbbing member over his jeans. “Please,” he pleaded; if he waited any longer, he would _die._

“Not yet, you’re still making it up to me remember?” Ryan nearly snarled; Shane shivered with delight. “Now, open your mouth again, like a good little whore.”

Ryan’s whore, _good lord_ , Shane loved the sound of that. Devotedly, he did as was commanded. This time, Ryan did not allow his boyfriend any semblance of control. Instead, unabashed, Ryan grunted as he fucked his lover’s throat. 

Shane did his best to keep up, moving his head back and forth in a way he knew would satisfy Ryan. When he could, he would swallow around him, drag his tongue across the underside of his dick, and peer up at him with eyes so full of dark, intimate promise. The way Ryan gripped the back of his head and _howled_ , was enough to leave Shane starved for his attention or praise or _something_. 

Maybe, that’s why he was so into this. Maybe, he just wanted to feel wanted by Ryan. Maybe, he was tired of Ryan being ashamed of their relationship. 

But, too soon, it became too much. Shane choked before he quickly pulled away, coughing and sputtering. 

In the brief span of a heartbeat, Ryan dropped his earlier persona. “Are you okay?” he asked with a softness that both touched and disappointed Shane. Concern etched itself upon his small frown, and his eyes softened to the color of warm chocolate. 

Shane nodded. “Yeah, I was just really into it,” he answered. With some amusement, he realized how hoarse his voice was. He was fairly sure that by the next day he would not be able to speak properly. In a way, he was glad for it, as though it were proof of what had occurred between them. 

What would happen if someone were to ask him about it? Or, if his co-workers came to their own conclusions? Would they guess that Ryan was the one who perpetrated the damage? The devilish side of himself positively hummed with thrill. 

“Oh, um, green light, then, I guess?” Ryan asked almost shyly. 

Shane coughed once more and nodded. 

In a swift motion, Ryan, again, pulled on Shane’s hair to force the taller man’s attention onto his eyes. They blazed. “Good. Now, get yourself ready for me. I’m going to fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk right for a week, and then everyone’ll know what I do to you.” 

Shane couldn’t scramble onto the bed fast enough.

===

The next day, hurried whispers, side glances and amused smirks followed Shane as he went about his business. When the “Single AF” video producers approached him at his desk to retrieve him for their first interview, he happily announced that he was taken and could no longer participate in being “married” for a week.

“Yeah, we see that,” one of them chuckled behind their hand. 

“Is she a bear?” the other asked incredulously. “I've heard you've been limping.” 

Shane rubbed the bruised skin of his neck in a false display of propriety. He already knew there was no way his palm, as large as it was, could possibly cover the purple love bites that bloomed from just beneath his ear down to his collar bone. Instead, he reveled in calling more attention upon them. 

“No,” Ryan answered from beside Shane. He took his eyes off his computer screen to train them on the two video producers. “He just has a very enthusiastic boyfriend, who likes to claim his territory.” 

“Boyfriend?” 

That reeled in everyone’s attention. Like a pride of prairie dogs, _Buzzfeed_ personnel slowly rose from their chairs and peeked over their monitors to stare at Shane. Heat rose to his cheeks, but he felt no shame. 

It took a moment, and a clever coworker who offered Ryan a high-five as he walked by, for the entire office to become a hive of activity centered around the newly-announced couple. 

(Shane couldn't help but be amused at the amount of money that exchanged hands that day.)


	16. Me & U (Village Bootleg Remix)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A possessive, drunk Ryan and a flustered, lovelorn Shane walk into a bar...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one was so late! I loved this idea so much, I wanted to carefully craft it before I dived right into it. 
> 
> **Warning(s):** Implied/Assumed homophobia 
> 
>  
> 
> **Mood Music:[Me & U (Village Bootleg Remix) - Cassie ](https://youtu.be/rmsPeSEzcPc) **

This was certainly _different._

Shane had become comfortably accustomed to Ryan’s inebriated state, as drinking was his activity of choice on the weekends. However, _this_ was a whole new level of intoxicated. 

As they consumed their alcohol, Ryan clung to him, seemingly unable to let go of Shane for a single, solitary second. If the shorter man did not grasp his arms, he took a tight hold of his hand or hung off his shoulders like a human shawl. 

Shane didn’t necessarily mind; he was just unsure of how long his heart could continue beating pure air into his veins before he simply died. 

Ryan’s drunk affections ignited his nerves, melting him from the inside out. Yet, during the rare nanoseconds Ryan wasn’t upon him, Shane wanted to plead for his branding touch to return. _Please, I’m all yours, I belong to you._

Or, so he wanted to belong to him. The way Ryan acted, as though he were a rare jewel in the presence of thieves, made it easy for Shane to forget that a romantic relationship between them was a pure fantasy. He could delight forever in such an illusion, but in the end, they would both go home to their respective apartments - utterly alone. 

Shane downed the shot set in front of him. 

“Don’t go anywhere,” Ryan nearly whispered against the sensitive shell of his ear; Shane shivered. “I’ll be right back.” 

Shane watched as Ryan navigated through the Saturday evening crowd and into the restroom. 

“Clingy boyfriend, huh?” 

Startled, Shane twisted in his barstool to find a rather handsome man in the seat next to his. In terms of physical appearance, this stranger could never hold a candle to Ryan’s beautiful combination of masculine power and boyish charm. Yet, he had an elegance about him that appealed to Shane. His warm, almond-shaped eyes and devilish smirk spoke of a distraction well worth having. 

It took a moment to process what the man had said. With a small start, Shane chuckled, “Oh, uh, him? No, we’re just friends.” 

The stranger offered Shane a knowing nod. “Oh, I see. Well, if you’re interested in making more friends, I’m always free.” He winked. “My name’s Mark.” 

Despite himself, Shane’s cheeks warmed and his lips softened into a small smile. A thrill ran down to his tummy. With a giggle that would make any lovelorn teenager envious, he introduced himself, “I’m Shane.” 

Just as Shane outstretched his hand to take Mark’s, Ryan seemed to manifest from thin air to stand between the two men. “Hey, sorry, you’re in my seat,” he grunted tersely. 

Mark lifted his hands in mock surrender and stood. “Hey, didn’t mean to encroach on your _territory_ ,” he said with every bit of friendly pretense that could be mustered in such a situation. The man stepped aside to allow Ryan his stool; the shorter man didn’t take the seat. 

A small pivot of his heel brought Mark to Shane’s side. He produced a business card out of the front pocket of his blazer. “Give me a call sometime, Shane.” 

Shane took the man’s number, thinking only of fleeting fantasies and not of the consequences of his small action, until he was left next to a fuming Ryan. Akin to a bull, his eyes blazed and his nostrils flared. Within the next moment, the man was elsewhere in the bar while Ryan growled out, “Let’s get out of here.” 

Any protest Shane had on his tongue was swallowed back the moment Ryan took his wrist and nearly dragged him out of the watering hole. 

Once outside, Shane twisted his arm out of Ryan’s grasp. He bellowed out, “What the hell was that?” 

Ryan gave a bitter laugh as he continued to walk; Shane followed close behind. “What? You liked that dude hitting on you?” 

“And, if I did? What?” Shane barked. 

“So what, you're into guys now?” 

That fucking _hurt_. While his sexuality wasn't a well-guarded secret, it was the _accusatory_ modifier of “now” that preventing him from sharing his orientation freely. Compulsory heterosexuality shaped his dating history, but that didn't mean he wasn't as queer as any other bisexual.The assumption that he was straight, the default of the heteronormative society he lived in, was utterly revolting. Worse yet, Ryan sounded as if Shane somehow _deceived_ him. 

Ryan, if anything else, was supposed to be his best friend, kind, gentle, supportive. Instead, the shorter man looked disgusted. 

Shane blinked back hot tears. With a wet voice, he grounded out, “I've always been into guys, sorry if that's a huge fucking problem for you.” He walked ahead of Ryan, determined to put some distance between them. 

A strong hand pulled at Shane’s shoulder. He skirted to a stop as Ryan circled around to his front. There was something in his expression Shane had never seen before. For a moment, he feared that the shorter man would punch him. 

Instead, with a broken whisper, Ryan asked, “If you're into guys, why aren't you into me?” 

What? 

Oh.

Oh!

Shane wasn’t quite sure if it was because he was drunk or high off his elation, but he couldn't recall how he ended up pressed against the brick wall of an alleyway, making out with Ryan as though he were a teenager. He figured he would worry about that later.


	17. Fresh Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Soulmate au where when you reach 18 you stop aging until you meet your soulmate? After a few years of being roommates (they were roommates through college and then just moved in together afterwards) shane and Ryan realize they've been slowly aging together (Bonus points if one of them realizes first and has to bring it up to the other person)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt was just far too cute, and unfortunately, I don't feel like this measured up to the high expectations I had for filling it. Regardless, I wanted to get this out there, because I know the requester must be wondering if I've forgotten about them by now. I apologize! Anyway, enjoy.
> 
> **Mood Music:** [Fresh Eyes - Andy Grammer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xipU1hxO_nk)

Ryan awoke with an intense ache between his shoulders and a long groan on his lips. Regret began to cloud his already foul disposition. With a huff of breath, he opened his drawer and reached for the anti-inflammatory medication readily available within. After opening the alarmingly light bottle, he shook out its remaining two pills and swallowed them dry. 

 

For a moment, he lay in bed in a vain attempt to prevent the inevitable. He knew no amount of time wallowing could take back the previous day’s intense workout. Ugh, vanity be damned, this pain was not worth upkeeping his arms and back so rigorously. Ryan rolled out of bed 

 

From the kitchen, a  _ clank  _ travelled through the apartment. The familiar metallic noise perked Ryan’s interest. Instantaneously, his mood brightened. Breakfast, especially cooked by his roommate, was always a venture worth having.  

 

With hobbling steps, Ryan maneuvered his way down the hall. There, Shane used a spatula to manipulate the viscous white liquid cooking in his pan. It took an embarrassingly long time for Ryan to realize that the other man was scrambling egg whites. 

 

“Thought you weren’t an egg guy,” Ryan mumbled as he plopped down at the dining room table.

 

“M’not, but I just weighed myself in the bathroom and did  _ not _ like the number I saw,” Shane explained around a yawn.  

 

“You could always come to the gym with me,” Ryan mumbled. 

 

Shane chuckled. “And hurt myself everytime I work out, no thanks - shit, I think I burned my eggs.” 

 

“I'll eat ‘em!” Ryan volunteered quickly. 

 

Shane gave another short laugh. Wordlessly, he retrieved a plate from the cabinet, placed it on the counter, and used the spatula to gently coax the eggs onto it. A moment later, the taller man presented Ryan’s impromptu breakfast before him. 

 

As Ryan ate, he noticed that the eggs didn't seem burned, in fact, they were  _ his _ preferred consistency. Each fluffy bite tasted better than the last. If he hadn't known any better, he would have assumed the eggs were meant for him. Oh well, it was a loss for Shane's picky palate. 

 

Suddenly, a pair of warm, strong hands kneaded Ryan’s shoulders. Pain melted beneath the touch, only for it to be replaced by pure bliss. He practically purred as thumbs pressed against the point that had been strained the most. 

 

“Feeling better?” Shane's whisper sent a spark of pleasure down his spine. 

 

Ryan nodded. A groan worked it's way passed his lips. 

 

“Huh, that's funny,” he heard Shane say. In the next heartbeat, a sharp, tugging sensation irritated his scalp.

 

Ryan yelped. “What the hell?” 

 

Then, Ryan was presented with something so terrifying, it made his heart leap and his stomach churn: a single white hair. 

 

“Looks like you're aging!” Shane laughed. “Congrats, man!” 

 

Every nerve in Ryan’s body lit with panic. Warmth spread from his collarbone, down to his tummy; yet, his feet and hands felt inexplicably cold. Sweat pooled over his forehead. 

 

How? How had he been aging without noticing? How long had he been aging? What if he met his soulmate so long ago it was impossible to reunite with them? 

 

Ryan flew out of his chair and into his room.

 

* * *

 

Ryan spent hours scrolling through photo after photo in an attempt to establish some sort of timeline as to when he started aging. 

 

It had to have been sometime during college, he realized with dismay. As he scrutinized pictures of himself, he noticed lines and extra skin upon his face that had manifested while he still attended school. Qualities he had once attributed to exhaustion or sleep deprivation were permanent etched onto his visage, an unsettling reminder that he had met his soulmate approximately five years ago. 

 

With some foolish hope, he assured himself that, at the very least, he still kept in touch with some of his fellow alumni. This included Shane, his college roommate turned adulthood roommate. Maybe he could provide a starting point with some suggestions? 

 

Ryan sent a quick invitation text to Shane, who took it a minute later. 

 

“Are you finished with your freakout?” Shane joked as he closed the bedroom door behind him. 

 

Ryan chuckled. “Not really, but I figured out I started aging pretty much right after I got into college. Maybe you remember some people I could try to tra -” he paused as his eyes fell upon a dark spot on Shane’s cheek that hadn't been there before. 

 

Or, had it? 

 

Ryan glanced down at his laptop. A picture of the two confirmed that the spot was, indeed, new. And, so were the small bags under his eyes, the smile lines around his lips, and the dullness that had darkened his hair. 

 

Scrolling through more pictures, he found that Shane seemingly aged at the same rate Ryan had. Odd, as Shane had been significantly older than Ryan when he began to attend film school. It was a huge coincidence, but he couldn't deny that the pair found their soulmate at roughly the same time. 

 

…

 

Wait. 

 

Ryan’s eyes flitted to Shane’s. Could it be? 

 

It would certainly explain the indescribable feeling of  _ home  _ he felt whenever he was around Shane. The same feeling that made it impossible to live anywhere but with each other, even after they could afford their own places. It was the reason behind their need to obtain the same position at the same company. It was why hours spent apart felt like days, why days spent apart felt like an eternity. 

 

Shane was Ryan’s soulmate. 

 

Something dawned on Shane’s visage, too. Without the need to ask, Ryan knew his soulmate came to the same conclusion. 

 

With a single swooping step, Shane closed the distance between them, enveloping Ryan in his arms. They had found each other! It just took nearly eight years to figure it out. 


	18. All I Had

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just gave you a prompt but: that Tumblr post where a superhero and a villain are roommates by day and enemies by night and the roommates slowly fall in love. And every day they have to lie to the other about how they get injured as they nurse each others wounds back to health. Who will connect the dots first?? Lol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to whoever sent this in. It gave me an excuse to write the _Marvel_ crossover I always wanted to do. 
> 
> That being said, I deviated quite a lot from the original prompt, mostly because the elements of that prompt would seem more fitting for a full-fledged fic. I had a tough enough time trying to condense this thing down. 
> 
> I do hope that this is still a prompt fill you enjoy, anon! 
> 
> As a side note, I haven't watched Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D, so I can only make a best guess as to how this would fit into the MCU timeline based solely on the movies. 
> 
> **Mood Music:** [All I Had - Louis La Roche](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0AmZXnT_fCE)

Ryan threw the bathroom door open. 

 

Droplets of inky blood led to the edge of the bathtub where Shane quivered over the rim. His hand shook as it held what was once a white towel, turned crimson, against his side. Though his amber eyes remained hard, he visibly swallowed as Ryan stormed towards him. 

 

The taller man ripped the rag from Shane’s fingers. There, a small wound - a grazing tear from one of his bullets, _ Jesus Christ _ \- poured blood alongside his torso. 

 

Ryan’s fingers gingerly touched the flesh around the injury as he visibly inspected the damage he unwittingly caused. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he determined with a growl. “But, you’ll need stitches.” 

 

With a hoarse voice, Shane refused, “I’m not going to the hospital.” 

 

“You don't have a fucking choice.” 

* * *

 

Initially, Ryan trained to be in the CIA. His superior physical capabilities and aptitude for problem-solving, as demonstrated by his incredible PT and ASVAB scores, were valuable assets the government couldn't afford to lose to another profession. This, especially after the “incident in New York”. So, unlike other applicants, the CIA pursued  _ him. _ At the tender age of twenty-one, he proved to be a successful recruit, far too superior to be a mere CIA agent. 

 

S.H.I.E.L.D paved his path forward. 

 

After only a couple of years, Ryan earned the codename “Ghost”. As his namesake implied, he had the ability to sneak in and out of heavily secured compounds as though he were immaterial. Any obstacle he did manage to encounter was dealt with a deadly precision that was quite impressive, even with agents such as Hawkeye and Black Widow in the ranks. 

 

More so than anything else, Ryan was especially grateful that his career allowed him to meet Shane Madej, award-winning Mechanical Engineer and Computer Scientist. He had admired the man for his work in the aerospace industry; it was through his efforts that S.H.I.E.L.D was able to deploy a first line of defense against cosmic threats. 

 

It was nearly unthinkable that such a brilliant mind would find something appealing about someone such as he. Yet, they shared the same bed, night after night. 

 

How tragic to lose it all. 

* * *

 

“Are you arresting me,  _ Ghost?”  _ Shane asked with a bitter, pained chuckle. 

 

Ryan flinched; he could almost feel his heart crack, spidering outwards until every edge was damaged. His chest ached as he pressed the towel back onto Shane’s gunshot wound. With less bite than he intended, he whispered, “You're lucky I didn't kill you - hospital might not be such a good idea, if we’re going to keep this discrete.” 

 

“What are you planning on doing, then?” The question was surprisingly soft and gentle.  

 

Ryan swallowed and blinked rapidly. “I'm going to stitch you up,” he explained through a hiccup. “And then I'm taking you to S.H.I.E.L.D.” 

 

Shane’s hazel-eyes melted into pools of soothing warmth. Ryan wanted to drown in them, as he had for the last handful of years. The taller man pleaded, “Please don't cry, Ryan.” 

 

A sudden boiling rage burned Ryan’s insides. How dare he try, even now, to manipulate him? “Just get on the bed,  _ Decay _ ,” Ryan snarled. “Put a towel under you so you don't get blood on  _ my _ sheets.” 

 

* * *

 

The discovery that a hacker had successfully infiltrated Stark Industries’ backlog servers marked the beginning of the end. The servers contained decades old information, but it was no less sensitive or innocuous. Nothing outrageous seemed to have been taken, just files containing a few details on a Stark relationship with a small company named SkyTech. 

 

It was hoped that this cyber threat was just a smart kid, with amazing computer skills, flexing their hacking muscles. When investigating further, it was with horror that S.H.I.E.L.D realized the hacker masked their digital presence completely, something no ordinary child would think to do. No, they were dealing with an experienced criminal on a mission. 

 

More reports came in of a hacker who seemed hell-bent on infiltrating information on The Avengers. Any company or entity that every dealt with Tony Stark, The Avengers, S.H.I.E.L.D, Hydra, or enhanced humanoids, was hijacked for what appeared to be tiny breadcrumbs. Dangerous, all the same. 

 

Once the hacker discovered their trail, they did not balk or shy away from their tasks. Instead, they sent an email bot to the lead investigators, which included Ryan. It read:  **You Are Now Dealing With Decay** .

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe that I’ve been looking for this bad guy for the better part of three years,” Ryan muttered. He pierced Shane’s skin with a hooked needle to thread surgical suture through it. “And here he was, living with me the whole time.” 

 

“I’m not -” Shane said through clenched teeth; even with the heavy use of lidocaine, the man whimpered each time he was pierced. “- a bad guy.” 

 

“What else would you call a cyberterrorist?” Ryan snapped. The next stitch was not so kind. 

 

Shane muffled a small yelp behind pursed lips. “I never terrorized anyone,” he breathed out. 

 

“Because we stopped you in time,” Ryan argued.  

 

“I was never after the good guys! After -  _ fuck _ \- after I found out that Hydra infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D, I had to know whether or not they were using my patents to make cheaper missiles. No one listened to me or gave me security clearance, so I had to do things my way.” 

 

Ryan paused. Shane’s story seemed plausible, very plausible. It was odd that the hacker had access to valuable information, and yet no auction or ransom was created for that data. At first, the team believed that the hacker was biding their time for a bigger treasure chest, but aside from a few educated assumptions, Decay’s motives remained unknown. 

 

Ryan breathed in; there was still one thing he had to know. “When did you figure out I was _ Ghost _ ?” 

 

Shane snorted. “Your ski-mask - which is cute with the whole ghost-face-thing - doesn’t really hide your voice well. The clincher, though, was when my defensive bomb accidently hit your leg. That night, I saw the large bandage and, well, I put two-and-two together.” 

 

Ryan bit his bottom lip.

* * *

 

The sutures throbbed as the black tank of a van hit bump after bump on the road. It didn’t compare to the excruciating agony of losing the love of his life. Half of his very soul had been torn away the moment Ryan reluctantly handed him over to the authorities. Worse yet, he had to bear witness to the utter disappointment in his former lover’s chocolate eyes. 

 

Shane hoped that one day Ryan would understand how the universe forced his hand. It was a choice between allowing his creation to become a weapon or the possibility of living a normal life with his fiance. 

 

Given the opportunity to do it all over again, he didn’t know whether or not he would make the same choices. 

 

Just as Shane felt the beginnings of a sob bubble out of his throat, the vehicle stopped. Moments of silence, for the exception of his labored breathing, filled the van. Then, with an ear-shattering rattle, the door slid open to reveal a very familiar face. 

 

“Seems you have friends in high places,” Black Widow greeted. 

 

Relief washed over Shane. There was a chance, after all. 


	19. The Conjuring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omg yes...write a conjuring fic pls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so let me explain this one a little bit before we continue. 
> 
> This isn't a re-telling of the movie. Rather, this fic is set in the same universe, but you can think of it as more of a prequel to the events that take place in both movies. Essentially, it explains how Ryan and Shane fit within this universe without re-writing the scripts for those movies, which is a feat I wish I could take on, but, y'know, life. 
> 
> But, now you can watch the movies and sort of see how they fit into them. 
> 
> Also, for anyone who hasn't seen the movies, please watch the trailer for [The Conjuring](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k10ETZ41q5o) and [The Conjuring 2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KyA9AtUOqRM&t=13s) to get a better understanding of what's going on.

_1969_

 

“So, are you really psychic?”

 

Shane glanced up from his beer to find a handsome young man, with gentle, almond-shaped eyes grinning down at him.

 

With a sudden energetic burst, Shane’s heart leapt as he unwittingly admired the man’s tanned skin and masculine build. He swallowed; his sudden and strange predilection awakened an all-but-forgotten anxiety within him, quelled only by this stranger’s open and genuine expression.

 

Inexplicably, Shane found his mouth dry, “I - uh…”

 

The stranger outstretched his hand. “M’name is Ryan, by the way.”

 

Without thought, Shane took Ryan’s hand and shook it. Around a crooked, awkward smile, Shane returned the introduction with his own name.

 

After a heartbeat, Ryan made himself comfortable on the open sofa cushion next to Shane’s. The taller man found himself drawn to turn his body towards Ryan’s, while the other man mirrored his movements. With some trepidation, Shane realized that their knees nearly touched.

“I heard from the girls that you know things about people just by touching them,” Ryan explained. “Is that true?”

 

For a moment, Shane considered the obvious naivety of this man. It wouldn't be fair to use that ignorance against him. But, by God, the urge to enchant this stranger into a friendship was far too difficult to ignore.

 

Shane nodded. He took a swig of his beer before placing the bottle near his feet. “Yup, I can tell you your whole life story, wanna try?”

 

Ryan nodded enthusiastically. A pang of endearment hit Shane in the solar plexus, effectively knocking the wind out of him.

 

With outstretched palms, Shane beckoned Ryan to place his hands on his own. Tingles rushed from where their skin met. It took an incredible amount of willpower for Shane not to shiver under the touch.

 

“What will you be able to see?” Ryan asked with a single breath.

 

Shane chuckled. “My abilities don't let me see anything specific, just whatever you feel strongest about.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Shane closed his eyes and silently commanded, _okay brain, do your thing._

 

Immediately, Shane was assaulted with a tragic image. A little boy, no older than ten, shivered atop his bed. His doe-eyes were stricken wide with a terror so intense it was nearly palpable. He clutched a stuffed toy close to his chest, tucked just underneath his chin.

 

_“I see a scared little boy, he’s -”_

 

The boy’s eyes flitted from Shane to the closet at the other end of the darkened room. Just beneath the door, a tangible shadow streamed through the opening like a heavy cloud of smoke.

 

_“ - he’s scared of something in the closet…”_

 

The smoke danced for what felt like a small eternity before it transmuted into the black silhouette of an arm. At its end, a grotesque mockery of a hand formed. It’s dagger-like claws scratched at the wooden floorboard, as if it were daring the boy near.

 

_“...it’s, it looks like a hand, coming out of the door, it wants the little boy to come closer…”_

 

“Mom!” the little boy shouted, but he was met with an irate, male voice demanding that he go back to sleep.

 

_“...the boy’s dad is telling him to go to bed…”_

 

“Be brave,” the child whimpered beneath his breath. Haltingly, he slid his legs from beneath the covers and placed his two feet on the floor. He wavered there for a moment, sitting, staring at the space between his toes. Then, with a small exhale of breath, the boy pushed himself off of the bed.

 

_“...he’s getting out of bed…”_

 

The boy crept towards the flailing appendage, each step small and unsure, but bringing him closer to the nightmare all the same.

 

_“...the boy, oh god, he's approaching the door…”_

 

Just as he was a single step away from the creature, the boy shouted, “You're not real! Go away!”

 

For a still second, the arm froze.

 

Then, with the speed of a cobra’s strike, it stretched until its rotted hand enclosed around the boy’s small ankle. Its claws sunk into the delicate meat of its prey.

 

“No!” Shane shrieked, throwing himself out of his “vision” and bringing him back to the present. Shane opened his hazel eyes; surrounding him was silence and wide-eyed stares, including that of Ryan’s.

 

Shane let go of Ryan’s hands and ran out of the front door.

 

* * *

 

_1970_

 

With an audible click, the projector stopped whirling. The lights brightened, illuminating the auditorium.  

 

Shane looked out at a sea of curious spectators. Though Ryan initially underestimated the turnout, Shane knew every single seat would be filled - and then some. People crowded around the doorway or sat on the steps of the stairs on either side of the lecture hall.

 

Shane felt a sense of validation rumble through his chest. Not only had he won their bet, but their audience was proof that others believed, as they did, that logic and science could be married to a fascination with the paranormal. Shane straightened his back just a tad.

 

Ryan, meanwhile, grinned. “Any questions?”

 

Arms rose like a tidal wave. Ryan called on a young woman near the front. “If your aim is to disprove ghosts, then why do you call yourselves a paranormal society?”

 

Shane chuckled under his breath.

 

Ryan nodded. “It's a little more complicated than that,” he began with a small laugh. “Our joint aim is to make sure that what people experience can't be logically explained. We never want to deceive or manipulate our clients. In fact, we only observe and document our findings, any steps after that we leave to the church. Personally, I'm a believer in the paranormal. While my friend here -”

 

“- thinks it's a bunch of bologna,” Shane interjected. “But, we both have faith in the scientific method and are open to being wrong.”

 

Another set of arms rose. Shane picked a middle-aged man in the back, who with the enthusiasm of a child. “How can you not believe in the supernatural when you're a psychic?”

 

Shane chuckled once more. “Good question! The answer is simple: I'm not a psychic. I have a brain disorder. While most normal minds only store information on an ‘as needed’ basis, my mind keeps everything and moves it to the visual part of my brain. That's why I can ‘see’ events in the past or possible outcomes, but it isn't anything supernatural, I'm just highly observant. Although, no, before anyone asks, it's not as great as it sounds.

 

“You see, I also suffer from frequent headaches and bouts of chronic fatigue. Sometimes, it takes all of my willpower just to get up and eat or take a shower.”

 

Shane peered at Ryan. Slowly, his smile dissolved as his gaze fell upon his companion’s visage. An intense ache gripped his chest. “Not to mention that there are things I wish I didn’t know or I could unsee about the people I care very deeply about.”

 

* * *

 

 

_1969_

 

The harsh, winter wind stung his wet cheeks. With an irritated growl, Shane wiped at his face. Shame burned his cheeks and nauseated his stomach.

 

“Wait!” he heard Ryan shout behind him.

 

Shane used his long legs to his advantage, taking long strides in an attempt to outwalk the other man. Unfortunately, he was tenacious; the shorter man jogged to catch up to him.

 

Fear crawled up his spine. With an incredible rush, adrenaline saturated Shane’s muscles. He squared his shoulders, clenched his fists, and stomped forward, even as he muttered, “I’m not looking to pick a fight, if you want, I can go back and tell the girls it was all fake.”

 

“That’s not - no, I just want to talk!” Ryan explained breathlessly.

 

Shane paused. He turned on his heel towards Ryan. “Talk about what?”

 

Ryan gaped, seemingly at a loss. “I - um.”

 

Shane rolled his eyes. Just as he made a motion to continue on, Ryan gripped his wrist. The touch was unusually warm, and it sent a sticky sweetness throughout his frame.

 

“This sounds crazy, but I just know there's a reason why God brought us together tonight.”

 

* * *

 

_1976_

 

Shane finished brushing the knots out of Millicent’s caramel hair just as he heard Ryan opening the front door and excusing the reporter out of the house. When the shorter man entered the living room, he sighed loudly, “Why do they feel the need to schedule these interviews so goddamn early?”

 

Shane snorted as he began braiding the girl’s long, straight strands. “Maybe because we’re a fluff piece and they have more important work for later.”

 

With a great plop, Ryan dropped his body on the couch seat next to Shane’s. “They were very interested in seeing Annabelle after I told them I have a priest come bless her cabinet twice a month.”

 

A laugh bubbled passed Shane’s lips. “That stupid doll? Didn’t they have anything more interesting they wanted to talk about?”

 

Ryan sighed, “Oh, y’know, the usual questions, plus they were really going on about how we live together…?”

 

Shane pursed his lips. With careful, practiced motions, he continued crafting the child’s hair. The void between the two men filled with a tension that thickened the air. After a long moment, he finally cut the awkward silence with a nonchalant, “Well, it is a little unusual for coworkers to room-in together. I don’t blame him for being curious.”

 

“Yeah, I guess…”

 

Shane’s eyes flitted from his daughter’s finished braid to Ryan; the younger man’s expression was tight, a concentrated pensiveness drew his eyebrows together. Shane gave him a small smile, in the vain hope to be comforting. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

 

Ryan cast his gaze downward, but nodded.

 

* * *

 

_1969_

 

Shane huffed out a bitter laugh. _God brought them together?_ Please! At that moment, he knew for a fact that either Ryan was determined to humiliate him or was genuinely out of his mind.

 

The taller man rolled his eyes as he hissed,“You’re insane -”

 

Ryan’s face fell. “I - no, listen, I want to put together a paranormal society-”

 

“A what?” Shane nearly shouted. Hysteria drenched his words. With a quick glance toward his surroundings, he assured himself that no other party-goer had stumbled onto their odd conversation; he was embarrassed just to be a part of it. “A paranormal - Ryan, that shit doesn’t exist.”

 

“But you’re psychic.”

 

Shane felt the edges of his heart shatter at the brokenness of Ryan’s declaration. With a heavy heart, he gently admitted, “I hate to break this to ya, but I bamboozled you. It’s just a party trick. I have _a thing,_ but it’s nothing more than being super perceptive.”

 

Ryan shook his head. “I don’t believe that, there’s nothing about me that could have possibly told you about my recurring nightmares, my _specific_ recurring nightmare.”

 

Irritation tensed Shane’s shoulders, hands and words. “Obviously there was! Psychics don’t exist!”

 

For a long, quiet moment, neither of the two so much as breathed. Then, Ryan visibly steeled himself. “Okay, so you would be great at debunking fake hauntings, since you’re so perceptive, right?”

 

Shane couldn’t argue with that.

 

* * *

 

_1971_

 

Another night, another case, and Shane was left with a frightened Ryan to look after for the remainder of the night. While Shane made himself comfortable in the guest bed of the “haunted” farmhouse they were investigating, the shorter man paced around their room. Each time Shane found himself finally drifting off to sleep, Ryan would make some sort of noise that roused him from potential unconsciousness.

 

After a particularly hard stomp caused the floorboards to squeak harshly beneath them, Shane snapped against his pillow, “Come. To. Bed. Now.”

 

“Can't sleep,” Ryan replied just as he strided over to Shane’s side of the bed .

 

A harsh puff of breath escaped Shane's flaring nostrils. “If you don't come to bed right now, I will drag you in it myself.”

 

“You can try -” Ryan was interrupted by a pair of arms snatching his waist and reeling him onto the bed. He became nothing but a tangle of flailing limbs as Shane manhandled his companion over his body and onto “his” side of the mattress.

 

Laughter erupted between the two, even as the younger man struggled to roll away from Shane. The taller man fought to keep Ryan from leaving the sanctuary of their bed, eventually being forced to pin Ryan by the shoulders to lock him into place.

 

Then, he saw it; image after image of their bodies twisted together, trapped by a pleasure so intense it promised to make them both clench, writhe and scream.  

 

Shane could never explain how his mind worked. Never would he know what tiny detail sparked his brain to manufacture the pictures that flashed before his eyes. (Was it their shared panting breath? The way Ryan’s eyes darkened? Or, how the younger man’s adam’s apple bobbed ever so slightly?) There wasn’t even an illusion of control over what his subconscious whispered to him.

 

It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the slow, shy, _dangerous_ kisses they exchanged.   

 

* * *

 

_1977_

 

During the course of their investigations, Shane hadn’t found a reason to question his unwavering faith in the laws of physics....

 

...until Amityville.

 

Darkness permeated the house like a blanket of pure torment. He could feel the rage, the terror, the sorrow dripping from the walls. Silent echoes of long exhausted screams travelled through the halls.

 

It was almost too much to take. Regardless, Shane pressed on, convinced that his prior knowledge of what took place within the walls of the home had influenced his emotions somehow.

 

Then, when his vision forced him to come face-to-face with the demon that brutally murdered the Defeo family and gleefully terrorized the Lutz clan, he could no longer reconcile between the natural and the supernatural.

 

The haunting yellow gaze of the pale shroud, dressed in a derision of a nun’s habit, sent a jolt of cold fear to his gut. The image of its toothy grin, razor-sharp and glinting with malice, would forever be burned into his mind. Every cell in his body hummed with a primeval horror, urging him to run, run far away.

 

“What do you want!?” Shane shouted at the creature.

 

It pointed to the corner of the basement where Ryan hung limp from a supporting beam.

 

Shane screamed, propelling himself back into his present reality. The members of their team stared silently as he quaked and panted for more breath than his lungs could take in. He whipped his head to his side to find Ryan, safe, whole, and slack-jawed.

 

Shane nearly collapsed against him. Instead, he gripped his companion’s shoulders.  As tears rolled over his cheeks, Shane whispered, “Ryan, this is the closest to hell I ever want to be.”

 

Ryan gathered Shane into a tight embrace. Even as television cameras recorded their affection while a small gaggle of people gawked at their display, the younger man whispered, “I’ve got you, don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

 

Despite losing the shield that was logic and reason, despite essentially outing themselves to the media after nearly a decade, Shane had never felt more safe or free in Ryan’s arms.


	20. Neighbors Know My Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A request for more bottom Shane please? ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Absolutely no excuse for this. None. I just wanted to write Ryan grunting, basically. This prompt request was perfect for that. 
> 
> Inspired by this lovely quote from our own Shane Madej: 
> 
>  
> 
> _"The unifying theme of all the things we’ve done are the strange, very unique noises that are produced by Ryan Bergara”_
> 
>  
> 
>  **Mood Music:** [Neighbors Know My Name - Trey Songs ](https://youtu.be/WyNJ9vpLu_8)

Ryan liked to think of himself as a pacifist (and by all accounts, he had a pretty good track record of keeping his cool). But, after a second sleepless night in a row, he felt absolutely murderous. 

While Shane blissfully snored in his own bed, the  _ Unsolved _ interns in the next room were in the midst of the loudest session of sex Ryan ever had the displeasure of hearing. Normally, such an occurrence would be entertaining for its scandalous nature, but their noises were just so  _ awful.  _ Each grunt and groan sounded less authentic than the last.

Worse yet, each time Ryan thought they were finally done, a new round would begin minutes later. How did these kids have so much energy? 

Ugh! Sure, maybe he was just jealous; admittedly, he had been suffering through a bit of a dry spell. Or, maybe sleeping the night before within the confines of a haunted prison exhausted him beyond all reason. Regardless, somehow, this had to end. 

Ryan threw a pillow at Shane’s head. The loud  _ ploop _ from the material hitting his companion’s face reverberated throughout their room. The taller man, startled, awoke with a small shout. After a quick glance at the foreign pillow near the edge of his bed, Shane threw a hazel-colored glare in Ryan’s direction. 

Unperturbed, Ryan beckoned Shane with a wave of his hand. Unsurprisingly, his friend slithered out of bed and lumbered over to where the shorter man sat. 

Ryan pressed a finger to his lips before pointing to the wall behind them. Shane cocked his head to the side. The lines of his expression drew inward as the cacophony of love making drifted through. 

“Have you tried knocking on their wall?” Shane whispered. 

Ryan nodded. “Yeah, and they just turned on some music until they finished  _ that _ session.” 

“That session? Jesus Christ,” Shane hissed. “How long have they been going at it?”

“Hours, Shane, hours,” Ryan muttered. “Which is why I need your help.” 

“What do you need?”

Ryan visibly swallowed. The last remnants of hesitation fell away as the two interns began to crescendo. “Follow my lead,” he ordered. 

Then, Ryan grunted - loudly. 

For a heartbeat, Shane froze; his eyes widened and his mouth hung agape. Much to Ryan’s near dismay, it took another moment for the scandalized man to nod in comprehension. 

Relieved, Ryan made a circular motion with his hand;  _ go ahead.  _

Shane, red-cheeked, produced a halted, shy moan. Immediately, his lips twitched under the weight of a bashful smile. 

Ryan grinned;  _ perfect, let’s keep it up. _ “F-fuck, Shane,” he groaned. 

Shane bit his knuckle to suppress a giggle. After a large intake of breath, and an equally large sigh, he mouthed, “Who’s on top?” Shane made a gesture between the two of them. 

Ryan pointed to himself while shooting Shane an incredulous look;  _ me, of course.  _

Shane shrugged;  _ well, okay, I guess.  _

“R-Ryan,” Shane yelped; his acting was so genuine Ryan grew concerned for a sliver of a moment. “S-slow down, you’re too big.” 

A cauldron of laughter boiled in Ryan’s throat, only suppressed by covering his mouth with his hand. His eyes filled with tears of mirth. In order to temper his growing humor, he pounded his fist into his thigh. 

“Wait,” Shane whispered. He situated himself so that his legs were on either side of Ryan’s kneeling form. “Move your knees.” 

Ryan did as was commanded and reveled in the  _ thud, thud, thud  _ that was conjured by his small undulations pushing the headboard against the wall, over and over again. 

“Yeah, that’s it, just like that,” Shane approved breathlessly. To aid Ryan’s movements, he gripped his shoulders, pulling and pushing them at an even pace. Close enough for Ryan to feel the ghost of Shane’s words over his lips, the taller man moaned, “Feels so good when you do it like that.” 

With a terrible intensity, Ryan felt a heat rise within his body. Logically, he knew Shane’s molten stare, lip biting and heavy panting were his attempts at getting into character; he was an actor, after all. Yet, that didn't prevent a rush of liquid lust from traveling down the length of his back and pooling in his lower belly. 

In an effort to clear his head, Ryan continued on; he hoped that the ridiculousness of the situation would cool the atmosphere. Or, at the very least, make Shane laugh. “Yeah, you like that, baby?” 

Shane nodded wordlessly. He released Ryan’s shoulders and dropped his back onto the mattress. There, he added his own movements to increase the intensity of their “love making”. Ryan felt something like dread clench his stomach when he realized Shane was moving his hips so, so, so well. 

“Yeah, yeah, baby, I like it,” Shane moaned. He tugged at the thick meat of Ryan’s upper arms. “Come here.” 

The logical part of Ryan’s brain knew that following Shane's command would be dangerous, but that didn't stop him from leaning forward until their chests nearly touched. 

Shane craned his head to whisper in the sensitive shell of Ryan’s ear, “It’ll sound better like this.” His declaration was punctuated by such a genuine bliss-filled gasp that it caused Ryan to whimper for mercy. 

This was too much. Each grunt that escaped Ryan was more and more authentic. His rock-hard cock ached for friction, more than the sliding of fabric could provide. It was then when Ryan realized his sweatpants did very little to hide how aroused he was. 

But, he couldn’t stop. 

Shane’s musical moans were a siren’s song he was powerless against, even as their movements brought them closer and closer together. The very second their pelvises touched, and he could  _ feel  _ just how much Shane reciprocated his attraction,  Ryan let out an unflattering groan. 

“Oh, fuck, Ryan -” Ryan silenced Shane’s cry with a deep kiss; those reactions, those  _ real  _ reactions, were for them - not for the interns. When had this become for them? 

Ryan pulled away only to discard his shirt and bottom wear. Shane mirrored the same awkward, hurried actions. There wasn’t even a heartbeat between them before they collided again, kissing and moaning and writhing against each other. 

Ryan took himself in hand and stroked, just as Shane fisted his own, rather enormous, length. With their free hands, they groped whatever they could get their hands on, seemingly touch-starved. (Had Shane been lonely too?) 

“God, I want to cum in your mouth,” Ryan groaned as he pressed kisses to Shane’s whiskered cheeks.  _ Fuck, where had that come from?  _

Shane let out a small keen. “Yeah, yeah, do it, cum in my mouth, baby.” 

They couldn’t scramble out of the bed fast enough. Shane positioned himself on his knees before his would-be lover, peering up at Ryan with such adoration in his pretty brown eyes it sent a lightning bolt to his heart. The image would have been almost romantic if not for Shane’s tongue hanging over his swollen bottom lip, ready to receive his seed. 

That, seeing Shane so open and ready for him, made him climax so hard he saw stars burst behind his eyes. His entire lower half tightened as ropes of cum landed in Shane’s mouth and over the bright hair on his chin. Ryan continued to stroke himself through his orgasm, reveling in the aftershocks Shane’s sensual visage provided. 

Shane swallowed what he could. He closed his eyes and tossed his head back. “You taste so good, Ryan,” he groaned. It took a few more thrusts into his own hand for Shane to join Ryan in oblivion with the cutest mewl. If Ryan hadn’t already been spent, the soft lines on Shane’s expression, etched with utter ecstasy, would have urged him to fuck that beautiful mouth of his. 

The kids next door long forgotten, the pair cleaned themselves up in the bathroom, cuddled on Shane’s hotel bed, shared a few extraordinarily un-awkward giggles, and fell asleep. 

  
The next morning, while the rest of the crew muttered sleepily into their coffees, Ryan and Shane were nothing but smiles. This was especially so when the interns shot glares in their direction. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos validate my existence. If you have a prompt request, please post it [here](http://faequill.tumblr.com/ask).


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